


Much Less Annoying

by butterflyslinky



Category: Atop the Fourth Wall
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:59:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens to every comic writer. You write your magnum opus just to have some upstart from Minnesota say that it sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Less Annoying

**Author's Note:**

> Written in November, 2012. The opinions reflected in this story are not the opinions of the author. I, in fact, have a very pathetic fan-girl crush on Linkara and merely wrote this a challenge to see if I can write him negatively.

It happens to every comic writer and artist. You spend years on an idea, months struggling with the story and art, countless hours polishing and editing and trying to create something beautiful, something deep, something exciting and new. And finally, it's finished and you've convinced a company to publish it and it feels like the greatest achievement of your life.

And then it comes crashing down with one simple, high-pitched, nasally, lisping sentence.

"This comic sucks!"

And at first you laugh it off, because who really listens to Internet critics? Why would the opinion of one overweight, self-centered twenty-something from Minnesota matter to anyone else on the planet?

But then you notice your sales dropping. People are laughing at your book, your work, your art. Your books sits on the shelf for weeks without anyone even picking it up, and when you try to pitch a sequel, the executives at the company shake their heads and turn you away.

And while it probably isn't entirely his fault, you decide to blame him anyway. After all, it's just so easy to hate him. You don't even know why people listen to him, really. As far as you can tell, there's nothing special about him. His jokes are occasionally funny, but not genius. He's not particularly attractive, typically Norwegian, average at best, but not especially handsome or charismatic. His voice is an acquired taste to say the least, mildly irritating on a good day, downright grating at its worst. And even if people find something good about him, he still makes a perfect target.

At least, until you go to the convention.

It's a typical con, full of nerds and artists and other such people. You go to panels and sit at a booth, desperately trying to sell your book and being thoroughly ignored by everybody. All in all, not too bad, though you can't help but reflect that if it weren't for him, you'd be running many panels, signing autographs for hours, having to turn hordes of adoring fans away because your book has sold out...

And then you hear him. That voice, which is at just the right pitch to be heard over almost everything else. You glance around and see him standing in a corner, surrounded by a good-sized group of girls in various costumes, all of whom are hanging on to his every word with faces that clearly indicate that they would all gladly go back to his room and screw him given the chance.

That's when you snap. Why? Why does this boy, this nerd, this nobody from Minnesota, get everything-- a webshow, fame, a harem of girls wearing their "fuck-me-now" faces-- while you're sitting alone at the end of a table with nothing but a pile of unsold comics that he's already convinced people not to buy?

Clearly, life isn't fair. But then again...

Did Superman stop when he learned he was the last of his kind, alone in the universe?

Did Batman give up when someone unjustly took his parents away from him?

Did Spiderman quit living when life kept throwing him curve balls?

Of course they didn't. So why should you sit quietly just because some overweight nerd with delusions of grandeur says your comic sucks?

You stand up, abandoning your booth (it's not like it's getting business anyway) and walk over to where he's standing. The fangirls are all laughing at something he just said, which does not improve your mood. You wait a moment for the laughter to die down and then call his name. "Linkara!"

He turns, an open, honest smile on his face. "Oh, hi," he says casually, kindly. No hint of sarcasm. You realize that he probably doesn't know who you are, and why should he? As far as he's concerned, you're just a terrible comic creator.

You swallow. Starting a fight would probably cause the women (at least one of whom is dressed as Catwoman complete with claws and all of whom are holding some sort of weapon) to tear you apart. You force yourself to smile. "Matthew Templeton. I created the 'Captain Miracle' comic."

He's surprised, to say the least, as his fangirls start giggling. You blush, but hold your ground. You're not going to let this little dweeb get the best of you, no matter how many women are following him around.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Templeton?" he asks politely, his Midwestern manners showing through in spades.

"I was just hoping to talk you," you say as calmly as you can. "About my book."

"That's fair," Catwoman pipes up, looking at Linkara with amused and flirty eyes. 'You did bash Captain Miracle pretty thoroughly."

"The premise was okay," a girl dressed as Rose Tyler admits fairly. "But Captain Miracle? It sounds like a pastor trying to get kids to go to church."

"And what were his superpowers again?" another girl in a Seven-of-Nine outfit asks. "I lost track after the sixth one."

As the girls continue listing off all the points Linkara had made in his review (have they read the book? Or do they just mindlessly parrot whatever he tells them?), you feel yourself growing more and more embarrassed by the whole thing. Upon reflection, you probably should have waited to confront Linkara after his fanbase had gotten distracted by someone more attractive.

You glance at him, waiting for his lisping Minnesotan accent to join in the cacophony of criticism, but to your surprise, he's looking just as embarrassed as you are. Maybe it's just easier to insult someone over the Internet than to their face.

"Oh, and the breasts on Peony were absolutely ridiculous..." Catwoman says.

"Okay, girls!" Linkara suddenly calls, not having to raise his voice all that much since it's higher-pitched than most of the women's. "I think everyone's seen the review. Why don't you go talk to Spoony? I think he's around here someplace and he loves to chat with his female fans."

They look vaguely disappointed that they don't get to continue their conversation (or warm Linkara's sheets later), but they stalk off, promising to attend Linkara's panel later.

Linkara turns back to you, an apology on his lips, but you've already turned to go back to your lonely table and unsold comics.

"Hey, wait!" He runs up to you as you sit down. "Sorry about the girls. They're mostly obsessive fans of mine who don't actually read comics."

"Noticed," you mutter. "They didn't say anything you hadn't already brought up."

He shakes his head. "They probably think that repeating all my opinions back at me will get them in my good graces."

"Will it?"

He shrugs. "It's nice that they take my word as gospel, but I'd be more interested if they had their own opinions." He pulls up another chair from nearby and sits down across the table from you. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

You look at him, your anger dissipating when confronted by his honest face and unassuming manners. "I... I was a bit upset by your review of my comic. I didn't feel it was very fair and my sales have been nonexistent since then."

He laughs, but not a mocking laugh, a gentle laugh of surprise. "And you're blaming me for lost sales?" he asks. "One bad review was what did it, huh?"

"Well..." When he put it like that, it was a bit silly, though you're not inclined to admit it.

"Listen," he says. "Of all the people who read comics, how many do you think watch my show?"

"Probably not a lot," you admit grudgingly.

"And of the people who do watch my show, a good percentage of them don't buy comics. Of the eight girls I was just talking to, only three of them had ever bought a comic, and one of them admitted she only got one because I recommended it."

"How?" you choke out. "How do you do it? How do you get people to listen to you and trust you and buy whatever books you say are good?"

He shrugs. "Good luck, I guess," he answers modestly. "I don't pretend to know why people watch my show." He smiles at you. "But I can tell you why I make my show."

"Why?" you ask, actually curious to know why he goes around saying people's comics suck.

"To help things improve," he answers. "And I think Captain Miracle can improve. He has a lot of potential. This was your first comic right?"

You nod.

"I thought so. I don't remember seeing your name on anything else. Well, don't be discouraged because your first attempt didn't go so well. Heck, you should be proud that you got someone to publish it sight unseen."

"But no one wants to publish the second issue since the first sold so badly."

"Draw it anyway," he says. "And keep trying. I didn't quit after the first part of my webcomic sucked."

You nod. "So tell me," you say. "How can I improve Captain Miracle?"

He picks up one of the unsold comics and starts showing you. "Well, let's start with the cover..."

As he goes through page by page, showing you how to do better, you begin to understand the fascination people have with this man. He's gentle in person, quiet in his reproofs when he's not shouting for a camera, and one thing strikes you as he points out Peony's lack of character and makes suggestions on how to give her one.

His voice is much less annoying than you originally thought


End file.
